The End of a Melody is Not its Goal
by Redorangeyellow
Summary: Jacob sleeps in the woods, thinking of Bella but longing for someone he cannot dare to love... will he finally give in to temptation? Sorry--I'm bad at summaries! Mature, lotsa lemons, please read and comment!


Jacob lay in his usual spot in the woods beyond Bella's house. The woods around him creaked and sighed, as if the ground were inhaling and exhaling; the air, semisolid with dew, alighted wetly on his warm limbs. He'd taken to spending his nights in the woods ever since the Cullens had left town—Jacob worried easily and the continued news of unusual animal attacks throughout the northwest gave him good reason to worry. Well, animal attacks, and the fact that the Cullens were rumored to be coming back in the next few days. Jacob neededto run into Edward at some point without Bella's knowledge, just to catch Edward up on her condition, he tried to convince himself.

He tried to concentrate on listening to Bella's breath through the murk. It was around five in the morning, and she would be done with her sleep-talking by now. Her breath did not interest Jacob as much as he wished it could. A few birds trilled deeper in the woods, though the sky was still the flat gray of brushed steel. Jacob closed his eyes, trying to fantasize about Bella's soft, sweet skin and perpetually bewildered expression. He was having trouble trying to enjoy his imagining. He felt a familiar frustration—he was so tired of lying to himself, of forcing even his private thoughts to conform to the familiar werewolf-girl love narrative. He trembled under the force of a new idea—why not succumb just this one night to his imagination?

As soon as he thought it, he needed to make no decision—his body seemed to move on its own. He reached around him, feeling the damp soil and softly decomposing leaves, until his fingers finally reached what he was searching for—a smooth stone, hard and cold. Jacob squeezed the rock with a large hand. He closed his eyes tight and tears leaked from the corners. He felt anguished, alight with shame and tensed passion, as he slipped the rock down the front waistband of his shorts. His crotch was hot and his penis grew stiffer as the cold stone brushed along it. He held it to his penis, rubbed it on his balls, feeling its earthbound eternal coldness as he fought his mounting desire to masturbate to orgasm. Jacob felt danger pounding through his neck and ears—not, finally, fear for Bella, but fear for his self-repression, for the blaring power of his passion. He shivered lying on the leaves, picturing how Edward's mouth would kiss down his stomach, lick those vulnerable places up his inner thighs, nick his mouth with the shimmering pain of venom.

Jacob was so caught up in his dreaming that he did not hear the light footsteps behind him until they had almost reached him.

Then Jacob heard. "Shit!" he cursed himself, flipping onto all fours, the rock clunking down out of his shorts. He focused his eyes on the figure before him. He saw pale, almost glowing skin, slender form, elegant stride. He saw—and his eyes burned, his throat filled with a lump like before crying or before a scream, and a tingling shiver ran from his chest into his groin. He could not breathe, and a startled cry burst from his lips.

"Jacob?" said Edward, voice chiming through the gloomy predawn like a matin benediction.

Jacob fought for control. Edward would be revolted; he would permanently force Jacob away or even kill him if he knew the truth. Jacob tried to stand up and failed, sitting heavily on the earth. "Yes—Edward?" he whispered.

"Are you all right?" Edward said, voice tense with concern.

How much mind-reading was he capable of, Jacob wondered frantically. And how much had the odor of arousal crept through the forest air?

"You sound as though—has something bad happened?" Edward asked. And suddenly he had approached Jacob, his breath was right by Jacob's ear, though Jacob knew it ran counter to all his instincts. Edward knelt down right next to Jacob. They sensed each other, both aware of their strange proximity, both aware of their equally keen senses, perceiving each other like wild animals.

"Jacob," said Edward, too softly for a human to hear.

Jacob's mind split into a hundred shaking pieces. What was that oddly intimate tone?

"Jacob," said Edward again. And he reached out his hand. And he touched Jacob's neck, right at the pulse point, where it was warmest.

Jacob's heart seemed to shut off, then surge; all his veins felt suddenly on fire. His breath caught in his throat. He was paralyzed.

Edward breathed in and closed his eyes, pressing his hand to Jacob's pulse, face tensed with concentration—or longing? Jacob felt the cool, sure fingers and moaned.

"Jacob, I was drawn here because I sensed your disturbance. Look at me," said Edward.

Jacob tried to turn, and couldn't.

"I said, _look at me,_" said Edward. And he roughly turned Jacob's face towards his own. Jacob could barely see but he could feel. His desire crashed over him like a wave, he felt gutted and stripped of all his bones. Edward's face moved like a reflection of the moon, ferociously beautiful, more lovely than all of Jacob's dreams.

And suddenly they were kissing. Those smooth lips, like cold fruit, moved over Jacob's, wetting and pressing at his own. Edward pressed Jacob backwards and pushed his tongue into Jacob's mouth, and Jacob felt it at his groin, felt his penis strain against the dampened fabric of his pants. Was it Jacob imagining, or did Edward chuckle as he moved his hand to unzip Jacob's fly? Edward pulled down Jacob's shorts and underwear, leaving his penis rigid and untouched as he kissed down the side of Jacob's neck, effectively melting him into uselessness.

Jacob moaned again, mouth inexorably curving into a conquered smile. He fell back onto the ground, overcome by his senses, unable to move.

Now Edward truly grinned. He lifted his mouth off Jacob's and pushed up Jacob's shirt, examining him as if trying to decide where to strike first. Edward's hands nearly trembled as he skimmed them over Jacob's tight body, opened out before him like a vivid prize. Edward nibbled Jacob's nipples, sending ripples of sensation through Jacob's spine. He licked the taut aerolas, then traced down the center of Jacob's chest with his tongue. He gripped Jacob's arms and then laid lingering kisses at the crooks of his arms, where the blood beat most strongly. With his hands, he squeezed Jacob's buttocks, his thighs, spiraling uncomfortably close in with his fingers and then moving out again. Jacob was tantalized to the point of agony, his entire body seizing up. Edward seemed to delight in the slow torment. His breaths were almost as short as Jacob's, his face almost flushed.

"I've…wanted this," Edward said roughly, as if he too were in pain.

His touch grew more savage. As Edward worked on him more and more, Jacob struggled to keep quiet, to keep control—they were after all within earshot of Bella's house. But it was almost impossible. Edward gripped Jacob's torso more powerfully than he ever could have any human, massaged him deeply, felt his neck, then lightly bit a path down from his bellybutton to where his pubic hair grew. Then, finally, Edward breathed a cool stream directly onto Jacob's penis.

Jacob's hips bucked upward, unable to endure. He thrust into the air, and thrust again, paroxysmically. And finally Edward satisfied him, slipping his cool mouth onto the head of Jacob's penis, fondling his balls, gripping his shaft and lightly twisting the skin. Edward licked down the side of Jacob's penis, then began to suck on it in earnest, first slowly and then more quickly.

Jacob wanted to whisper to Edward, but instead he screamed. He was lost to the world—everything had dissolved into pure gleaming waves of pleasure. Jacob moaned and shook as Edward pressed on his taint, played around his asshole with his fingertips, forced out that deep near-painful resonant pleasure from his prostrate. Jacob struggled not to orgasm, and Edward seemed to enjoy drawing him out, letting him reach frenzied peaks and then suddenly stopping, allowing Jacob to gain back a slight measure of control.

But finally, Edward forcefully pushed Jacob's thighs apart, pressing his knees almost to the ground. He licked at the head of Jacob's penis, stimulating that little sensitive patch that drove Jacob to the very edge. This time, he did not let up. As Edward's tongue darted in and out, Jacob finally peaked, and as he came and came, Edward took him deep into his throat, forcing Jacob's penis even tighter into that tight canal and causing him again to shout out helplessly.

Finally, Edward pulled away. Jacob lay on the ground, sticky and trembling. He trembled for a good thirty minutes as the sun rose. Maybe Bella was getting up, maybe Billy was looking for him at home, maybe there were vampires to fight off or friends to attend to. Jacob, sprawled out slack and drained on the forest floor, was lost to all of it.

**Thank you for reading!! Please leave comments!**

"The end of a melody is not its goal, but nonetheless, if the melody had not reached its end it would not have reached its goal either. A parable." --Nietzche


End file.
